At the railway station he found the through express from Ventimiglia—the Italian frontier—to Paris would be due in twenty minutes, therefore he purchased a first-class ticket for Paris, and in a short time was taking his morning coffee in the wagon-restaurant on his way to the French capital.
TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER
THE MAN CATALDI
On the day that Hugh was travelling in hot haste to Paris, Charles Benton arrived in Nice early in the afternoon.
Leaving the station it was apparent he knew his way about the town, for passing down the Avenue de la Gare, with its row of high eucalyptus trees, to the Place Massena, he plunged into the narrow, rather evil-smelling streets of the old quarter.
Before a house in the Rue Rossette he paused, and ascending to a flat on the third floor, rang the bell. The door was slowly opened by an elderly, rather shabbily-attired Italian.
It was Yvonne’s late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi.
The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor.
“Well, Cataldi!” exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer cheerily. “I’m quite a stranger—am I not? I was in Nice, and I could not leave without calling to see you.”